


The Most Perfect Date in Saint-Saëns

by irvingmcallister, pikalex88



Category: Disco Elysium (Video Game)
Genre: Ensemble Cast, F/M, Gen, Romantic Comedy, The Anodic Dance Gang Tries to Wingman, With more guest appearances then is at all reasonable
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:40:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24431500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irvingmcallister/pseuds/irvingmcallister, https://archiveofourown.org/users/pikalex88/pseuds/pikalex88
Summary: Acele notices that Noid has been making heart eyes at a certain programmer in their midst and decides it's time to do something about it. Plans are hatched and the anodic dance posse gets to work putting together the most perfect date possible for their friend.
Relationships: Soona Luukanen-Kilde/Noid
Comments: 9
Kudos: 22
Collections: Disco Elysium Big Bang





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to my fantastic partner irvingmcallister aka anisakisworm who provided AMAZING illustrations that brought joy to my heart, and brainstormed the wild ideas that turned this into what it was.
> 
> We're putting up the first chapter to start, but the rest are (mostly) finished and will be added over the next few days!

When an uneasy truce had been struck in the abandoned church slowly decaying on the desolate Martinaise coast, all parties had understood it to be a temporary measure. The posse didn’t want an unsettling no-fun coder disrupting the vibes of their hot new dance club. Said programmer didn’t want a bunch of degenerate speedfreaks breaking her concentration with their dissonant so-called ‘music’ when she was trying to conduct potentially groundbreaking research. Agreeing to that disaster cop’s proposal to unite forces was not a true putting aside of differences, merely a short term alignment everyone expected to dissolve as quickly as it came together.

However, as they had all been enveloped in mind numbing silence and then shaken by the near-catastrophic pulse of something inevitable and hungry… visions of the future had shifted. Not that anyone had been particularly certain of their path to begin with - what with the posse only recently genuinely determined to make an authentic dance club and _not_ a drug lab, and Soona so deep in her years of searching for an answer that she’d long ago stopped considering what she’d do if she found one. Suddenly it hadn’t seemed like such a bad idea to just keep… hanging around. 

The swallow and the data gathered from it still held mysteries to be unearthed through digital digging, and after having gotten all her equipment set up just so, Soona was loath to move her base of operations. That she’d possibly felt a camaraderie she’d long thought lost when this strange group came together had nothing to do with it, no, not at all.

For the posse, now that this was going to be a proper club and not just a front, there was a long _long_ list of steps to be taken to turn this into a place that stood a chance of attracting experimentally minded ravers willing to venture out of the familiar bowels of the Paliseum. They weren’t going anywhere anytime soon and despite their earlier misgivings, Soona had led them to a life-changing auditory experience, which had to count for something. At this point, she felt as essential a part of the church as the dark towering beams, or the glimmering remnants of the face of that most merciful of Innocence.

So the ragtag group went into the following weeks and months not as uneasy allies of convenience, but as… something closer. It was, after all, difficult to go through a near-death experience together and _not_ end up feeling some kind of closeness. Collectively discovering an existential threat to humanity had to count for something too - not the kind of trust exercise one would go through if given the choice, but certainly an effective one.

This backwards rumination is what Acele happens to be considering as she lets herself into the church, returned from a successful resupply mission. She drops off her spoils (roofing nails, snacks, extra strength instant coffee) in the little office by the front door that’s been dubbed the unofficial ‘green room’ and wanders back out to check that the crew hasn’t gotten up to anything too dangerous in her absence.

Egg Head and Andre are lounging on the overstuffed couch that Egg had dragged in one day from who-knows-where, and they're deep in some kind of conversation that involves a lot of gesticulating and intense nodding. Acele takes a moment to just watch with a soft smile on her face, leaning against a weathered pillar. She still wasn’t sure if the dance club idea would really take off but… there was no question that the pursuit of it had been good for all of them. It’d gotten bad for a while. Desperate. They’d still been united, always would be, but with all the tension and plotting they’d lost track of the passion that’d brought them together in the first place. With a renewed sense of purpose and solid roof over their heads instead of leaky canvas, those strained bonds were healing. Sure, the roof did still leak, and debates about what exactly the “wickedest club for anodic dance music ever” looked like in practice got heated at times - but Noid’s carpentry skills were closing up the holes in the sanctuary week by week, and Soona had been declared official tiebreaker in decisions where the four of them were at an impasse, which prevents any disagreement from getting too nasty. (It wasn't in their usual nature to take advice from outside the group but Soona's glare sent a chill right down your spine, and any decision she made was spoken as if it was irrefutable fact, so once she'd gotten involved that was that. She also had very little patience for any voices raised loud enough to be audible through her headphones - so the gang liked to say they'd made the decision to grant her the title of tiebreaker, but this was to save face more than anything. You can start whatever kind of argument you want - but Soona will end it.)

But as she thinks about that element of the new normal she focuses in on the _particularly_ interesting development of Noid and Soona, the most quiet members of this odd little household. Acele glances over to where Soona is typing away at her radiocomputer as usual… and sure enough, also predictably, Noid has just so happened to set up a bench to repair as close as he can get to the programmer without disturbing her work. With a mischievous smirk, Acele creeps closer. Noid’s bench is angled such that Soona is directly in his line of sight as he sits working, and as Acele draws nearer, it’s clear that Noid is spending more time sighing at Soona than doing any actual carpentry. 

This wasn’t the first time she’d noticed the connection developing between the two. It turned out that once you got past the difference in subcultures, Soona fit in quite well with the group, and especially with Noid. The two of them shared a love of technology that led to chatter which flew over the heads of anyone else, like their own private language. Soona had indulged Noid’s curiosity about the finer details of radiocomputing technology, lighting up at the chance to discuss her craft with someone who could keep up. Noid in turn shared his own expertise in audio equipment. The two of them had disassembled and re-assembled every piece of tech they owned between them by now, in service of tweaks and repairs or simply as a tangible example to demonstrate some concept. Acele, always most comfortable observing from the sidelines rather than drawing attention, had watched with no small amount of protectiveness as the most withdrawn member of her posse slowly opened up to the spooky programmer of all people. 

But… she had to admit, the interest seemed genuine, and mutual. Soona’s face had reminded her at first of a marble bust she’d seen someone trying to fence, back in Faubourg. Cold, sharp angles, a sculpted expression that stayed static even as her hands danced across the keyboard. Yet more and more around Noid, those harsh features softened into something more fond. He’d even somehow figured out how to make her _laugh_ , a surprisingly sharp bark that Soona seemed surprised to hear herself, hiding her face behind her hand with a faint blush that stood out on her pale paper-thin skin.

It was _unbearably_ sappy and Acele was eating it up, but was maybe going a bit mad because despite all of this… neither of them had actually SAID anything to each other. The feelings in the air were so thick you could choke on them. It was so obvious that even Andre had noticed, pieces suddenly falling into place one night when he’d rolled over to ask “Hey sweetheart… have you noticed that Noid and Soona seem to be spending a lot of time together? Do you think it’s possible he’s got, you know, a _thing_ for her? I know it sounds hard to believe but I really think I might be sensing something.”

“Mmhmm. Took you long enough. He’s got it bad,” she had replied blearily, halfway to sleep.

“Oh. I... totally suspected it earlier. Just didn't want to say something until I was sure, didn't want to gossip. So should we… do something?” 

“Nah… One of them is bound to figure it out, they’re clever. No need to meddle. Now come on, you know we've got six hours at best before Egg is awake, if you don't let me sleep I'm kicking you back out to the tent.”

The issue was, that’d been a while ago. And despite their cleverness… the lovestruck pair had _not_ figured it out. At this point Acele is right next to Noid and he's too busy making heart eyes at the oblivious woman across from him to notice a thing. Absentmindedly he picks up his hammer to pound in another nail… not a good idea, it was plain for Acele to see, but this might be a chance to prove her point. You had to be cruel to be kind and all that.

  
“SHIT! AAaaaarrhhhhh, Dolores fucking damn,” the speedfreak curses as he predictably bashes his thumb and drops his hammer, which bounces off the table and directly onto his foot, a cosmic kick while he's down. Luckily, the object of his affection has proven to be near unreachable by the outside world when her headphones are on and she’s deep in a problem, so only Acele witnesses this outburst. 

“Feeling a little distracted Noid? That looked awfully painful,” she innocently offers, smile only widening as he startles, nearly tipping his bench over.

“No, no no it’s fine, no problem here,” he replies, unconvincing and muffled as he sucks on his injured thumb. 

“Uh huh. And I’m the long lost Queen of Ubi. I think it’s time you admit you’d rather be carving ‘Noid + Soona 4 Ever’ onto that bench instead of fixing it.”

With a choked sound Noid shoots up and grabs a snickering Acele by the arm, hustling them both to the break room, skeleton of his suspenders rattling. “You can’t just _say_ that man! Words give it power! And what if she _heard you_!”

“Ah, so you’re not actually denying it *tito*? That’ll save us some time at least.”

Noid’s glower comes across more as a sulk. “‘Course. I’m in touch with my emotions. Not one of those repressed toxic masculinity macho men. I can admit it when I’ve got… feelings for someone. It’s no big deal, natural part of being an emotive creature.”

“But a bigger deal to admit it to her, maybe?” Acele asks more gently now, letting off on the teasing now that they’ve arrived at the heart of the issue.

At this Noid’s face flushes, and he busies himself with taking the new nails out of Acele’s bag and organizing them into a tidy set of perfectly aligned boxes. It’s a companionable silence as he organizes his thoughts. Well, as silent as it can be with Egg Head in the other room.

“Yeah it’s… not that I don’t want to admit it. I just don’t want to fuck it up. She’s a special person, Acele. Our sines line up no problem, it’s constructive interference off the charts, mega amplitude. Talking tech is easy. But you know me. Not as great with the social stuff.”

Acele pads over softly, nudging his shoulder with a reassuring smile. “I figured that might be holding you back. But the good news is, that’s what a posse is for. And I’ve got _a plan._ ”


	2. A Cunning Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An interlude. In which Noid is busted, Egg Head has at least got the spirit, Acele prays for patience, and Andre has a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize this has taken so long to update - the year has been well, the year. This is a quick interlude chapter to be followed rapidly by a longer and more fleshed out chapter (with more beautiful art!!), and hopefully the rest of the fic continues to follow in faster order. The majority of it is finished, there's just some intermediary bits like this one that have been giving me grief - but doing my best to get out *something* instead of agonize over the details, hope you enjoy! 
> 
> Thank you to my art partner irvingmcallister aka rookie for their endless understanding and patience as I've struggled to get this done <3

Noid glances over his shoulder again, as Acele herds the gang into a corner at the far end of the church - Soona and her technological shrine only barely out of sight on the other side of a pillar. “I don’t know if I like this. Doesn’t feel very private. All she has to do is take off her headphones and we’re fucked,” he grouses, voice tight and clipped.

“Which she won’t do - once she gets that expression like she’s taking the world apart with her mind, she’s dead to the world for hours. It’s just the four of us, your secret is safe,” Acele reassures, smoothing it over to get to business.

“Five! Four is not the score! Shout out to the Crab Man!” Egg Head says, pointing upwards where sure enough, a shadowed shape is quietly perched. 

“Aw come on now Egg, don’t call him the crab man, it’s rude! He’s our… room mate, we should respect him,” Andre says, “Sorry Tiago, he doesn’t mean any harm by it, we know you’re not a crab.”

“Nah it’s cool. He doesn’t mind being the crab man. Thinks names aren’t worth shit anyway. Right crab man?” Noid surprises them all by countering, sullen but confident.

“That’s the truth homes, shed it along with the rest to become something *new* in the quiet womb of the Mother,” comes the answer from above. “Tiago, Crab Man, saeraff, what’s that matter? Does how you perceive me change who I am? You gonna become something else, if I called *you* Crab People?” 

The question drifts down from the rafters, Noid nodding sagely while Egg Head gasps in realization, exclaiming, “WOAH! CRAB CYCLE BEGIN! There is only one step. It. IS. **CRAB**!!!”

Acele and Andre share a look that conveys several years of ‘here we go with this shit again’ before dividing and conquering, Andre taking Egg Head by the shoulder to quietly convince him that no, he isn’t a crab, and this meeting isn’t about crabs - while Acele squints up into the rafters. “Thank you uh, Crab Man. We’re just having a discussion about a kinda private matter between Noid and Soona. You can stick around if you want dude, just don’t spill the beans.” With a hum of acknowledgement, the shadowed figure climbs further up, deep enough into the shadow that he blends and disappears completely. 

Andre and Egg Head rejoin the loose circle, the latter still pinching his fingers together in the shape of claws and looking thoughtful, but Andre’s shrug conveys this is the most on-track he’s going to get so Acele takes the floor. Despite appearing small, inconspicuous, and frankly forgettable among such a loud and audacious group, the moment she clears her throat all faces turn to her attentively. Right. No point beating around the bush with it.

“So as everyone has likely noticed, Noid has the hots for Soona—”

**“WHAAAAAAT?!! NO WAY!! HARCORE!”**

Acele sighs as Noid curses violently and threatens creative punishment if Egg Head doesn’t keep his voice down and Andre jumps in to mediate but mostly just adds to the noise and confusion. She looks upwards, asking some Innocence to grant her patience once more, and spots the dark shape of Tiago who gives her an encouraging thumbs up. 

With a whistle to cut through the argument, Acele pushes through, “Okay! So everyone _except_ Egg has already noticed that Noid has the hots for Soona… and now that we’re caught up, it’s time to do something about it.”

Riled up but back on task, the hardest part is done - and so with the premise set, Acele takes a slight step back and lets Andre take the lead. “Thank you Acele for the excellent articulation of the crux of our problem. There’s no shame in being a little disinclined to open oneself up to romantic rejection and needing some good old wingmen and uh… wingwomen. After all, Soona is a stoney pillar of a woman. Can give a look that cuts like a knife, absolutely impossible to discern what she’s thinking unless she wants you to know, honestly I can’t even tell if she *likes* us or is just biding her time…”

Acele tries to catch Andre’s eye, making an urgent ‘cut’ gesture, but Noid stirs to interrupt. “She’s the smartest person I’ve ever met. No offense Andre. Thinks hard about the important shit. Grounded. She’s practical, good with her hands—”

“NICE! The magic touch, oh yeahhhhhh!!!!”

Spluttering, Noid shakes his head so vehemently that the skeletal frame he wears clatter like windchimes, “ **No!** That wasn’t. I’m not. _Khm_. We don’t need to be crass, she’s a lady.”

“I APOLOGIZE FOR MY COMMENT! YEAH!!” Egg Head somehow manages to shout while still sounding contrite.

“It’s alright. She’s just. A unique person. Makes me happy and shit. I’d like to be close but just, not sure where to start." They wait a moment more but Noid has said his piece, scuffing his worn boot into the floor and avoiding eye contact.

Leaping on the chance to regain control Andre claps his hands together decisively. “And that, good friends, is where we come in. I’ve give it some thought upon realizing Noid harboured such romantic aspirations and I would like to pitch you on… _The Most Perfect Date in Saint-Saëns!_ ” His hands flourish dramatically, grinning and pausing for applause.

“But… we aren’t in Saint-Saëns.”

“Yeah, shouldn’t it be The Most Perfect Date in Martinaise?”

Rolling with the disagreement and waving dismissively, as if he’d expected just this kind of response, Andre says “No no, doesn’t have the same ring to it. Saint-Saëns is more a state of mind anyway, a metaphor. It’s artistic.”

“Deep,” Egg nods, impressed.

“Exactly. Now picture… our beloved church, a comfortable place, private. A little table set up just there, with candles and a romantic dinner, something intimate. Conversation flowing over good food, a bit of wine. Then… when the mood is right and sines synced up, relocating to a cuddle on the couch and TADA - we project a film onto the wall, your own private showing, it’s perfect - romantic, comfortable, and you’re already at home and ready to punch your ticket for a one-way ride to smooch city.”

“That’s…. not a bad idea, if we can pull it off. Huh.” Acele’s surprise doesn’t seem to rankle Andre in the slightest as he pulls a wrinkled Frittte receipt out of his pocket covered in scribbles, labelled at the top with **'PERFECT DATE PLAN'** underlined enthusiastically.

She makes eye contact with Noid. Once the gang gets rolling, nothing is going to stop them except achieving their goal or colliding catastrophically with a very hard wall. Her raised eyebrow asks - are you sure about this?

After a moment of deliberation he nods, speaking up to the crew. “Not promising anything about this smooch city business. It isn’t a game. Objectification and linear progression of romantic attachment is a tool of the state to deny free love to the masses. But… I like her. It’s a good plan. _Let’s fucking do it._ ”


	3. Phone a Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plan is formed, the gang has split, and Andre has a very important task - that he's perfectly capable of completing by himself thank you.

With a relaxed and purposeful air of confidence, Andre strides across the sea ice and into the tiny fishing village. The trust of his posse never fails to put an extra spring in his step - it makes sense of course, that he should be entrusted with something so central to the entire date experience. Such a challenging task as well - wiring up a projector is one thing, but meal planning is an entire process _full_ of complex considerations and dependencies. A bland meal was a guarantee of a boring date and that wouldn’t do, not for Noid. Preferences had to be kept in mind of course, and allergies. The last thing they needed was Noid breaking out in hives because someone thought it was clever to blend anchovies into their pizza sauce. Yes, a very important task indeed. Only right he should take it on. Alone.

As he crosses the canal into Martinaise proper, he comes to a halt with a frown, as a series of realizations come to mind.

First, the only proper kitchen he knows of in the entirety of Martinaise and surrounding environs is in the Whirling-in-Rags.

Second, that horrible grumpy purple-shirted cafeteria manager is _still_ the one keeping the Whirling running, which is… a problem.

Third, he does not, in fact, know how to cook anything. Not anything you’d eat anyway. His knowledge is more… chemical. Which has turned out to be a more useful life skill to keep food on the table than cooking. But - surely it can’t be _that_ different.

Resolved to figure it out as he goes, Andre adjusts his expression back into a casual and relaxed smile, and heads straight for the Whirling. Sure, he and Garte have had their disagreements in the past, but he’s on a mission for _love_ and even Garte won’t be so coldhearted as to stand in his way.

He makes it three steps past the front door before Garte looks up, spots the spiky haired young man with the sheepish grin, and points forcefully at the door.

“No. Get out of my cafeteria, you and your ‘posse’ aren’t allowed in here and you know it. Out. I am _not_ in the mood for whatever weaseling you’re going to try today.”

“Aww c’mon man, you haven’t even heard what I’ve got to say! This isn’t about your entirely misguided ban that prevents myself and my compatriots from supporting your fine establishment - this is about _love_ ,” Andre pleads with his hands raised placatingly, not weaseling in the slightest. “You won’t even need to see me, I just need to pop into your kitchen and take care of a bit of culinary business, and then I’ll be right out of your hair.”

Irate and snatching up a broom which he brandishes menacingly, Garte comes out from behind the bar shaking his head emphatically. “Absolutely not. The kitchen is a restricted area even for normal patrons, let alone people who are _banned_. You know what you did, I don’t give a damn what you need it for, you’re not welcome here.”

“It hardly speaks well for your argument that you feel the need to back it up with physical threats, if you were in the right you’d hardly need- OW, fine, fine, ach, I’m going!” Fleeing any further prodding with cleaning supplies, Andre turns on his heels and exits with what pride he can manage. 

“That’s assault, is what that is. Assaulting an honest man asking for a simple favour, it’s bloody criminal, he’s lucky those cops aren’t still around…” he gripes to himself as he despondently wanders away, staring down at his feet. Mission failed before it’d even properly begun. He’s not cut out for this, he’s a _leader_ , an _influence_ , an _ideas man_ . Hardly his forte to be getting his hands dirty with the cooking, it’s a setup for failure is what it is... But wait… _unless_...

* * *

As Andre crams himself into the ramshackle phone booth, he congratulates himself on his clever thinking. This is why he’s the brains of the operation after all - he knows how to _delegate_. That weird old disco cop had solved every problem they’d thrown at him, surely he’d come through for his buddy Andre one more time! 

Finding the number for civilian reporting to the RCM emergencies desk is easy enough, and with a bit of stretching the truth regarding the nature of the very sensitive and urgent information he’s only comfortable sharing with an Officer du Bois, he’s able to piece together the details he needs (41st precinct, lieutenant double-yefrietor, Jamrock, Pryce.) Just a couple more calls to find a sufficiently apathetic communication officer, generous name dropping, and finally his prize - the phone number of the Major Crimes Unit of Precinct 41, where he’ll apparently find his man.

Buzzing with pride at some clever social engineering well done, Andre is a bit taken aback when the call goes through and is answered not by the affable detective he expects, but a gruff and _overwhelmingly_ Revacholian man who sounds like he smokes a pack a day and swallows glass as a chaser.

“Vicquemare. Who’s this? Hello?”

“Ah! Officer um, Vicquemare,” he quickly stutters, this new cop’s tone oozing with impatience that makes it clear he won’t have long to work - “this is the Major Crimes Unit yes? I’m looking for Lieutenant Double-Yefrietor du Bois, I have very important confidential matters to discuss with him.”

“ _Important confidential matters_ ? With the _shitkid_? Is this some kind of fucking crank call, how old are you even? How did you get this number?”

“I don’t think that’s particularly relevant at this junction, sir. And may I add, that is hardly language befitting a representative of the RCM, I’d hate to have to mention it to your superior. If you could just put him on the phone-”

“Oh you think Harry is going to fucking report me over my fucking language huh? You gonna get me in trouble, kid? I’ll tell you who’s in trouble, punks who think they can get their kicks wasting my time. Why don’t you tell me where you’re phoning from, I’ll make sure to send someone down to give you some _assistance._ ”

“Please officer, if I may interject, it may be worth hearing what this ‘punk’ has to share. They may be an informant recruited by Detective du Bois, or a source of some other interesting and potentially criminally relevant information!”

An oddly emphatic cheerful voice suddenly comes through the receiver only slightly muffled, as if someone is eavesdropping behind this Officer Vicquemare’s back.

“ _Fucking hell Heidelstam_ do you _want_ to give me a heart attack?” There’s a clatter as the phone receiver is evidently dropped in surprise, voices suddenly distant but audible. “You’re lucky I didn’t clock you, cops are jumpy people Trant, how many times do I need to say this? I don’t know how a man in loafers can be quiet as a god damn ghost but don’t you have somewhere more useful to be lurking?” 

“I do not! I am currently taking my fifteen minute coffee break, which has been shown in accredited research trials to improve focus and productivity when included in a daily schedule! I apologize for not making my presence more audibly known however, and will endeavour to walk more loudly in the future.”

“Hello? Are you going to pick the phone up again please?” Andre anxiously eyes the change he has handy for continuing this call, as the sound of muffled argument continues in the background.

Before he gives up hope, a familiar voice chimes in - “Hey Vic, I think your phone is talking.”

“Ah yes! I believe someone was looking to speak to you Harry, let me-” “Fuck, no, it’s some damn prank, Trant you fucking snitch-” “A call for ME??” There’s an audible scuffle for control of the receiver until finally, “Hello! Harry du Bois here, crime solver extraordinaire, what can I do for you?”

“Harry! It’s me, your good friend Andre, from the church! Remember?”

“Ahh, sorry but I went on this absolute bender and can’t remember a damn thing, some kinda amnesia,” Harry replies sheepishly.

Andre’s stomach sinks like a stone, last hopes dashed. “Oh…”

“Nah I’m just fucking with you, can you imagine if I forgot everything _again_? Of course I remember! How’s the club, are you guys the next big thing in anodic dance music yet?”

“We have yet to establish a reliable base clientele but expect a sizable boost once we shift our focus from brand development to community outreach,” flows a rote answer as the young punk tries to recover from classic Harry du Bois conversational whiplash.

“So what, you need me to drum up anodic dance fever in Jamrock? Dig into the shady dealing of a rival discotheque? It’s The Paliseum isn’t it, buncha jumped up tape-jockeys, I knew van Eyck was around here, did he kill someone? Or _someones_? Is Arno van Eyck a sequence killer, the Man-Machine turned Murder-Machine, is that what you’re telling me???” Harry’s voice builds to a crescendo, intense and accusatory.

“No no, nothing like that! No crimes!” Andre protests, diving in front of Harry’s runaway train of thought. “I just need help figuring out how to put together a nice meal in Martinaise, Noid’s scored a date with the spooky programmer lady and Garte won’t let me into the Whirling, I’m at my wits end, I didn’t know where else to turn!”

“Noid asked out _Soona_?!” Like a switch, the tone of a hard hitting detective is gone and replaced with that of a bubblegum-popping teen latching on to the latest juicy gossip. “I can totally see it, they’ve both got the scary weirdo outside and the squishy brainy inside. You’ve gotta give me all the facts Andre. What’s the outfit plan? I don’t think the usual baggy sweater is bringing the right vibe, I’ve got this robe he could borrow that’s a way better date night choice. And he’s gotta find pants that really highlight the ass, it’s crucial, write this down kid, and then- oh shit, waitwaitkimplease-” With a minor scuffle the receiver once again changes hands.

  
  


“.... hello?” Andre asks tentatively, as the silence stretches out. Somehow disapproval radiates over the line, carried in the silence.

“Andre, yes?” Lieutenant Kim Kitsuragi’s voice comes through clearly and leaves no room for dissembling or time wasting.

“Um, yes officer. With the dance club?”

“I remember. Am I correct in surmising that you’ve acquired the number of an internal RCM division phone line in one of the busiest precincts in Revachol, taking up the time of several detectives, in order to ask officer du Bois for…. date advice for your friend?”

“Haha, you know, it sounds a bit daft when you put it that way,” Andre responds with a nervous chuckle. After all, a bit of laughter can defuse tension. Get everybody to see the humour in the situation. The lieutenant… does not laugh. Right. New plan. “Alright, I will admit, this maybe wasn’t the wisest course of action, I apologize for the misappropriation of the RCM telecommunication system. In my defense, I didn’t ask for date advice in a general categorical sense, but merely for the specifics of where I might acquire a suitable meal.”

“Hmm.” A single syllable packed with a density of disapproval that would put a neutron star to shame.

“Okay right, yes, absolutely that is meaningless quibbling, very sorry sir,” Andre backpedals, single hope now being to throw himself at Kim’s mercy.

“Indeed. Do not ever call this number again. If you are aware of an _actual crime_ , it can be reported through the proper channels. And no, your friend having a bad date is not a crime. Do you understand?”

Andre slumps against the phone booth, in a mix of dejection and relief. “Yeah, I won’t call again, sorry Kim.”

“Good.”

A moment of unexpected silence, as if the lieutenant is weighing something, and then - “Don’t listen to anything Harry says about fashion, he literally finds his clothes in the trash.” In the background, he can hear indignant blustering and sniggering. “Something casual is fine, enough of a change to be shown making an effort but nothing drastic enough to be uncomfortable, Soona doesn’t seem the type to expect formality. Clean, no holes, and not racially insensitive - it should be easy, the bar is very low. I’m hanging up now.”

Just as the call is ending and Andre is attempting to thank the lieutenant, Harry’s voice comes booming through as an unnecessarily loud shout - “WAIT! ANDRE! THE FOOD! TALK TO EASY LEO, HE’S-”

“He’s what?? Hello?? Harry???” Gripping the receiver in both hands, his pleading is met with nothing but the dial tone. 

Alright. He can work with this. Sure he didn’t get a solution, exactly. But he got a lead for the next step, like he’s a detective himself, and that’s just as good! Setting the receiver down with a click, Andre sets back off towards Martinaise, a man on a mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the support and for the patience as I finally get back into getting this out into the world - and as usual, to my art partner Rookie for their wonderful work. And thanks to ZA/UM for featuring the Big Bang in their latest community update! Hard to believe it's been a year already.
> 
> Expect one more relatively quick chapter update before another gap as I fill in some of the tricky middle bits!


	4. Feel the Wave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Acele and Egg Head set out to achieve their own task in the plan for the Most Perfect Date - acquiring a projector.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to my awesome co-creator irvingmcallister aka Rookie, for the awesome art and the encouragement! Also thanks for @_MossEnthusiast who shares our enthusiasm for the anodic crew - hearing about your enjoyment gave me the energy to get this new chapter out <3

“So, what do you think Egg, will Roy really let us borrow his projector?” Acele asks as the two of them make their way over the water lock.

“YEAH! Red stop, green goes, stereo!” 

A seagull resting in the canal startles at the sudden yell and takes off, Egg Head stopping to point at it in wonder and follow its path into the sky with shouts of encouragement. Acele patiently waits behind him until the gull is out of sight and Egg drops his arm and turns like nothing just happened, finishing the crossing with a hop in his step.

They make for a contrasting pair, comfortable as they clearly are with each other. Egg Head loud in every way - attention flipping from one thing to the next and exclaiming loudly at each new discovery. His peroxide bleached hair looks almost white on this cloudless day, shining along with his gaudy silver belt buckle. The overall impression is like a small, noisy sun that has taken human form. An unmistakable presence that is putting energy into the world, but which is bound to give you a headache if you look at it for too long.

Where Egg Head is larger than life, Acele seems to somehow take up no space at all, despite being of a similar build. The fade of her hair from brown to a dirty blonde, the fuzzy edges of her well worn clothing, the smudge of dark eyeliner - taken together there is an impression of blending in that subconsciously marks her as background, not foreground. But her gaze is sharp, surveying her surroundings not with the rapid and distracted air of her friend, but with measured patience. A level-headedness that she also applies to the back and forth with Egg Head, continuing on like this was any normal conversation.

“Yeah, I mean I know you guys are friends, but Roy really loves his projector… I think it’s kinda his coping mechanism, you know? I don’t think he’ll want to let anybody touch it, even friends.”

Egg Head’s large forehead furrows as he considers this. The worry is foreign on his face, pulling awkwardly at muscles accustomed to more cheerful expressions.

“Sunshine in the air… air in the lungs… lungs are for LOVE,” he resolves, clapping his hands together for emphasis, “This is the age of love, and the age cannot be caged!”

“Alright man, you take the lead then,” Acele concedes with amusement. She couldn’t say she quite understood Egg Head’s approach to problems, exactly. But it had gotten him attached to their little posse, back in Coal City, and she had to admire someone who kept some internal fire of optimism and passion still burning after so many years.

As the pair enter Roy’s Nest they’re bathed in the swirling mellow lights that lazily drift across the room. Roy himself is slow to react, gaze following the lights for a while longer before languidly looking towards the door - but then a smile spreads across his face at the same time that Egg Head rushes forward with a jubilant shout of “YEAH-AY! RAVING ROY, OY OY OY!”

Acele hangs back to watch with bemusement as Egg Head vibrates with excitement and Roy lets himself out from his glass enclosed zone of safety, coming around to greet Egg with a reflexive handshake motion that Egg Head ignores in favour of lifting both arms in the air with a joyful “HARDCORE!!”

“Yeah man, hardcore!” Roy agrees with a grin, hand continuing to hover like he’s not quite sure what to do with it, “it’s been too long since I’ve seen you, great to feel those positive photons again!”

The awkwardness of the older man’s more stilted movements is countered by the sincere delight in his expression, and Egg moves his arms in an unusually slow and telegraphed sweep to a hug, agreeing “Photon shower! Positive power!”

After a few slaps on the back, Roy untangles himself from Egg Head and peers over his head - “Oh hey, Acele! Sorry I didn’t notice you back there. How’s life been treating you, find any sounds with pleasing shapes lately?”

Rummaging around in her pockets, Acele produces a tape which Roy takes eagerly. “Yeah, nothing too special… I noticed a piece of that stained glass mural that’s loose but not totally broken. When the wind comes through at the right angle it kind of… buzzes. I thought maybe with the contact mic it could be cool. Dunno if it worked out or not, but it seemed like it might be your style...”

“Yes, sounds radical! Vibrations, valences, it’s all about the energy and I’ve got a good feeling about this one. Thanks pal, it’s nice of you to think of me, you’ll have to let me know how I can make it up to you. Maybe something in the here catch your eye? A hat?”

“Um, thank you but no, I’ve got a hat already actually…” she replies with a little smile, thinking of the garish green visor sitting back in the church with her few other keepsakes - “Though actually, we came here hoping you could do us a favour?”

The pawnshop dealer tenses, “I deal in goods here, not services, I’m afraid…” He glances at Egg Head, smiling encouragingly, and drops his shoulders, scratching at the back of his head. “Sorry, force of habit. Favours don’t make for a sustainable business model, but for friends, of course. What can I do for you?”

Acele looks to Egg Head hopefully but he’s caught up in watching the lights, head far away in… whatever place Egg’s ideas come from. A subtle kick at his foot does nothing to bring his attention back. This, she reflected, was the problem with Egg Head. If dealing with normal people was like high stakes poker, unknown information balanced by strategic planning and attention paid to subtle tells… dealing with Egg was like playing the slots. When it all lined up and you hit the jackpot, you hit _big_. But most of the time, what you get is an assortment of mismatched fruit. All you can do is yank on the lever and pray. 

“Well… I know this is a big ask but you see, Noid asked Soona on a date and we’re helping him set something nice up in the church. There isn’t really a lot of stuff to do around here, and he really cares about her, it needs to be something special… So we were hoping we could. Borrow your projector. Just for tonight! We’d give it back right after!”

Roy had been nodding along pleasantly as Acele hedged, but at the moment parting with his projector comes up his face crumples in pain. He clutches at his vest, worrying the fabric with his fingers. Shaking his head forcefully, like he can dislodge the thought itself, he says “No no, you guys are great and all, I wish Noid all the best but… I need my projector, it’s the attractor of this whole place. The fields without it would be chaotic, I’d be lost in phase space, like some sailor on an infinite sea without any lighthouse to guide me home. I can’t.”

Acele felt a shiver of sympathetic unease, Roy’s face somehow unbearably haunted even with his eyes hidden behind dark glasses. She opens her mouth to apologize for even asking when Egg Head snaps back to reality-

“RAVERS OF THE UNIVERSE! The step to the beat, the beat to the rave, everybody jump and feel the wave! The drop to the pool, the pool to the sea, Yekokataa is the place to be!”

Acele holds her breath and prays as Roy considers this… and relaxes somewhat, expression growing more contemplative than fearful.

“I mean, you’re right, on a matter of scale the pattern repeats. The nature of the universe is fractal man, of course. The point is _also_ the wave…”

“YEAH! Every minute, every hour, got the power, take a shower. The beginning is the end, rhythm lets you ascend, FOREVER HARDCORE!” The speedfreak is bouncing on his heels to an unheard beat, channeling energy into his argument.

Subconsciously, Roy nods along to the beat set by Egg’s motions. “That _was_ a pretty close-minded view of causality. You’re right to keep me out of the trap of determinism, thanks bud. On the scale of the day, if it’s been gone but is back, who can say it ever left? And on the scale of centuries, it’s long gone, same as this shack and the whole city I’m sure… so who’s to say it even exists right now? How can you lose something that’s already gone?”

Convinced, but melancholy, he gazes up at the gently spinning beams of light. Egg Head delicately brings up an arm and after a quick tap to get Roy’s attention and nod of acknowledgement, drapes it over the older man’s shoulder in a half-hug. “It’s nice to be important.... But it’s more important to be nice,” Egg says in sympathetic approval. Acele turns away to poke at the knicknacks, giving the two a moment to contemplate the patterns of colours, both appreciating some language of the universe in the motion and reflection. One task complete. Hopefully the rest of the gang were having an equal amount of success.


End file.
